


Iron in Her Soul

by punk_rock_yuppie



Series: LOSF Smut Week 2016 [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Day 2, Established Relationship, F/M, LOSF Smut Week 2016, Nipple Play, Sex while Menstruating/Period Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara levels him with a glare. “Pardon me, Mick,” she snaps, “if I don’t have complete faith in your ability to make the sex so great that it makes me forget about the copious amounts of pain I’m in.”</p>
<p>Mick grins. “I’ll raise the bet to one-fifty.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron in Her Soul

**Author's Note:**

> belated contributions to day 2 of losf smut week, m/f pairing. mick and sara, plus period sex. not beta'd, enjoy!

Mick leans against the threshold with one hand and raps his knuckles against the door with his other hand.

“Not tonight, Mick.”

The grin he’d been sporting falters and he stands a little straighter. “C’mon, birdie,” he replies, voice loud to get through the heavy door separating them. Despite the distance, he hears a sigh and the distinct sound of sheets ruffling—he can practically picture Sara burrowing deeper into her blankets and turning away from the door. “Sara, open up.”

“Not tonight, Mick,” she says again in a raspy drawl. There’s a beat of silence, then something heavy hits the door and Mick assumes she threw a shoe in his general direction.

“Bet you fifty bucks I can make it worth your while.” Mick stands back and crosses his arms while he waits. Sara can’t resist a bet any more than Mick can: that is to say, can’t resist a bet at all.

The door slides open just enough to reveal Sara’s face drawn with lines of exhaustion and irritation. Underneath that, Mick can see the familiar fondness, however faint. “Really, Mick?” Sara asks as she leans against the door without opening it any further. She purses her lips and her eyes slide shut and she takes a few moments to breathe slowly.

“That bad, huh?” Mick asks. He reaches out to push away a few stray hairs that have fallen into her face and retracts his hand carefully.

Sara levels him with a glare. “Pardon me, Mick,” she snaps, “if I don’t have complete faith in your ability to make the sex _so_ great that it makes me forget about the copious amounts of pain I’m in.”

Mick grins. “I’ll raise the bet to one-fifty.”

Sara raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “What’re you planning?” As she speaks, she lets the door open a little more and takes an inviting step back.

Mick counters by slowly following her into the room and letting the door slide shut behind him. “I was thinking I could make you come on my fingers with my mouth on your tits, n’then maybe grab you some hard liquor and get Gideon to whip up a heating bad.” He reaches out to skirt his fingers along the stretch of skin revealed between Sara’s tank top and her sleep shirts.

Sara hums and the tension in her body dissipates just enough for Mick to know he’s got permission. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and drops a hand to cover Mick’s half hard cock in his pants. “What about you, Mick?” She asks as she squeezes his prick teasingly.

“I can take care of m’self later,” he rumbles. He secures his hands on her waist and pulls her close; automatically her arms wind around his neck and their bodies seal together seamlessly. “Sounds like you need it more than I do.”

Sara buries her smile in the juncture of Mick’s neck and shoulder. She blames the heat in her skin—a blush—on the way heat is perpetually radiating from Mick’s own body. She kisses at his thrumming pulse before pulling back.

“What are you waiting for, then?” She asks as she steps out of his grasp, already turning toward the bed. She lets out a peal of laughter when Mick’s arm wrap around her waist and lift her into the air with a well-practiced ease. Her nails dig into his arms for support as they tumble onto her bed together, a mess of limbs. “You don’t have to, you know,” she tells him quietly once they’ve settled on top of the sheets.

She’s on her back, head on the pillow, and he’s looming over her carefully. She pats his cheek and winks, though there’s a heat in her groin that speaks to how badly she wants Mick to touch her.

“I know, birdie,” Mick murmurs as he kisses his way down her body. He gets his hand under her tank top and pushes it up until Sara helps peel it off and toss it aside. “I want to,” he replies with a kiss to the dip of her stomach.

Sara sighs and tilts her hips up so Mick can drag her shorts down her thighs and drop them off the side of the bed. Next is her underwear, plain and unassuming and spotted with blood, and Mick draws those off without preamble. One hand still cupping a breast, Mick kisses along her body until he can flick his tongue against her clit.

Sara sucks in a quick breath and lets her legs fall open wider. When Mick’s thumb brushes over her nipple, stiff and pert, Sara arches her back and sighs softly. She holds his hand against her skin and starts to writhe as he teases her nipple relentlessly, endlessly. Mick smirks against the heated skin of her clit before pulling back.

He laughs when Sara shoots him a glare. “Easy there, birdie, m’just getting started.” He pats her stomach with the hand not teasing her chest and counters her glare with a cheeky grin. “Y’got some lube?” He asks, though he knows full well she does.

She nods toward the bedside table while she answers. “I’m plenty wet, you know.” She’s painfully aware of the sensations between her legs, feeling slick from arousal and slick from blood. It’s not the most romantic setting, but that’s not what she and Mick are. Though, she can say she’s never met anyone so eager to finger her when she’s in the middle of her period—it’s a Mick thing, she figures. Always eager to go against the norm.

Mick responds once two of his fingers are slick. “Yeah, but I wanna make this good for you, n’something tells me a little extra luba ain’t gonna be a bad thing.” As he speaks he teases her entrance with a single thick finger. “You ready?”

Sara rolls her eyes as though that can hide her fondness for him. Mick takes that as a yes and slides his index finger into Sara slowly until the bump of his second knuckle is sitting just inside her. He crooks his finger experimentally and grins when it wrings a breathless gasp from Sara’s lips. When Mick looks down, his hand is already a mess: Sara’s slickness and a bit of blood are both starting to stick to his skin, but he pays it no mind.

He leans down again and laps at her clit with long, broad strokes of his tongue. He moves his tongue in time with his finger inside Sara, putting pressure on her clit at the same time that he curls his fingers just right. He sets up a rhythm quickly that’s only offset by the way he toys with one of Sara’s pert nipples on an uneven beat.

He hums against her clit before sliding his second finger in as well and letting her adjust. Mick pulls back with an idle kiss to her swollen skin before grinning up at Sara. “How ya doing, birdie?”

Sara groans and flicks the side of his head. “Get up here and kiss me,” she demands instead of answering. Mick obeys and never lets his fingers slip as he crawls back up Sara’s body. He leans up first to catch her lips in a kiss, licks the seam of her lips, then finally takes his hand from her chest to admire her pink and abused nipple. “Mick, c’mon,” she snaps and clenches around his fingers.

Obediently, he moves his fingers in quick and practiced movements. He curls his fingers ever other thrust to brush against that spot inside Sara that has her on the verge of screaming. Eyes trained on Sara’s face, Mick lowers his mouth to her other, neglected breast and suckles at the sensitive skin. He bites gently before soothing over the mark with his tongue. He groans against her breast and drinks in the way Sara’s own breathing hitches.

“You close?” He murmurs as he kisses along her skin; he peppers his touch along her ribs and hips, the dip of her stomach again, up until he can lick at the hollow of her collarbone. “Will you come for me, Sara?”

Sara reaches out and grips the back of Mick’s neck; she squeezes each time she lets out a long moan. Her eyes lock with Mick and she nods as her moans catch in her throat and her whole body tenses. Her hips keep rolling in time with Mick’s fingers as she rides the sensation of her orgasm—letting out a sigh of relief as her body goes limp with relaxation.

As she settles, Mick sits up and peels off his own shirt, then wipes his fingers clean on the fabric. He tosses his own shirt aside and lays down again to kiss at Sara’s neck.

“How d’ya feel, birdie?”

Sara pets the back of Mick’s neck. “Better,” she answers, “cramps are gone for now. Wouldn’t say no to that heating pad you mentioned. Or the liquor.”

Mick huffs a laugh against her skin. “Comin’ right up.” He pulls back from kissing her neck to kiss her softly on the lips again. “So, do I win the best?” He asks with a grin.

Sara tugs at his ear admonishingly. “The night’s not over yet, let’s see if you can really earn it.”


End file.
